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maskormenacelogs2018-06-20 11:57 pm
bragnificent) wrote in maskormenacelogs2018-06-20 11:57 pm
Entry tags:
- haru okumura | noir,
- proinsias cassidy | n/a,
- ronan lynch | greywaren,
- † cassandra igarashi | n/a,
- † eikichi mishina | yellow owl,
- † herr starr | n/a,
- † jughead jones | n/a,
- † karolina dean | n/a,
- † matthew lynch | n/a,
- † n/a | baphomet,
- † n/a | dionysus,
- † nico minoru | n/a,
- † reggie mantle | n/a,
- † ryūji sakamoto | skull,
- † tate langdon | the rubber man,
- † veronica sawyer | dead girl walking
I feel it in my blood, in the fire and the flood
WHO: BAPHOMET, HIS ENTOURAGE (REGGIE MANTLE & NICO MINORU), and YOU.
WHERE: Maurtia Falls, in the woods.
WHEN: June 21st
WHAT: Baphomet's concert debut!
WARNINGS: Possible drinking, drug use, fire hazards, and/or Wicked + the Divine spoilers; anything else, please mark your threads as necessary!
Although promoted across all four cities -- mostly via ominous posters and graffiti displaying a simple symbol and the date, June 21st -- directions to the concert are a little more obscure to come by, although those who want to find it will find their way. Part of it is via word-of-mouth, yes, but there's also a sort of... strange draw in the air, one that will just instinctively guide those who truly belong at the show, or are at least open to hearing it.
But however they find their way, it becomes much more obvious the closer you get. Reach a particular Maurtia Falls forest and one might start to notice that same symbol painted on some of the trees and nearby power poles, accompanied by arrows guiding attendees deeper into the woods.
The destination itself is obvious once you arrive to it: a large clearing in the woods, illuminated by a number of eerie floating red and gold lanterns and (what would appear to be) faerie lights. There is fog and, somehow, a cloak of dusk surrounding the area even before the sun really begins to set, and the ground is dark and illuminated by cuts of flame as if there were just a fire here. Visual effects courtesy of Nico Minoru's magic, no doubt. There's streaks of red paint smeared across several trees, the ground, and the props meant to look like blood, too, but it's probably not actually. One thing is for sure, which is that from a distance, from the outside looking in, it will certainly look as if there's a fire blazing within the woods the entire night.
The stage itself is made of wood and metal, elevated just a bit from the ground so it gives off the appearance as a dilapidated bridge, splintered and rusted, and is backed with black and orange curtains. Far from the stage is a merchandise table, which includes black t-shirts sporting Baphomet's insignia in white or red, as well as posters of the same design (some of which include also Baphomet's name, or flaming eyes below the symbol), various takes on the goat-skull, blades, and spikes theme via metal rings and necklaces, a Goatman plushie with burning red eyes, and then finally, shirts and encouraged donations promoting Linda Belcher's Lind-a-Care foundation. On the opposite side of the stage is a broad table with refreshments, sporting an enormous golden claw-footed punch bowl in the center which compartments a few different varieties of red-colored drinks (which Reggie Mantle will be happy to spike alcoholically, using his powers, should anyone want or ask) within itself, BAPHOMEAT (lamb kebabs), a broad spread of sandwich fixings and bread, elaborate fruit-and-cheese plates, a selection of fireball whisky, and of course, bottles of water.
Once it begins to get dark, the sun setting in earnest now... let the show begin.
( For a more individualized read on your character's reactions to Baphomet's godsong, please comment to THIS. )
The solstice sun burns low in the sky, descending quickly as dusk chases it, as stars speckle a darkening sky, when those red circles materialize. They glow into being in the field before the stage, neon yet ethereal, inviting yet taunting. And that metal stage-- there's a shimmer, like the atmosphere is melting. The stage becomes the opening to a cave, the audience situated in the "cave". You're in the cave, a lion in its lair. The outline of a neon red door appears, and you can feel the warmth from it on your face. It's like the hot high noon sun, it's like rage and war. It gets into your blood, this heat.
Baphomet steps through the door, onto the raise of stone that remained reminiscent of a performance stage. He raises both his arms above his head. He points to you, index finger out and thumb up.
One,
three,
The sound pours out of his mouth and it burns. You feel it under your skin, you feel it spreading -- infectious, you know it's viral. You know it is contagion. He screams a riot, incomprehensible yet intimate, he roars for you. He sings every surrender you've regretted, he sings your fists ripping at your own chains, of your searing and bloodied triumph. His eyes are catlike slits, his fangs displayed in predatory snarl.
Your veins glow with inspired revolution. You can break free, you can escape a hell of your own making. You can become your own plague, and lay waste those who would ever again hurt you.
⬤ ⬤ ⬤
It's also one of Baphomet's talents, to create what he calls image golems. They are illusions, mirages, a plague set upon your heart and your mind. They aren't real, but they seem real, they'll talk to you and react and provoke. Sometimes they give to chase. You may see it lurking, its blinkless stare looking back at you through thinning foliage. You may hear the twigs snap beneath its hooves. He will beckon to you, his all-too-human hand nearly normal, with only some fingers seemingly melded together. He walks with mostly a man's body, but he wears the head of a goat. Welcome to the sideshow.
If you approach him, he will speak with a voice familiar to you. The voice of someone not here, someone back home. Someone you miss. Everyone within earshot will hear.
"It's been too long. I miss you."
Something along those lines come out of his mouth.
And then he'll flee. You can either:
A. Give chase to him, catch him, and NPC him from there.
B. Take comfort in your company, who would have also heard a love one from the goatman's tongue.
C. Give chase to him, catch him, and kill him. An image golem of his nature will not hurt you. He will but dissolve.
WHERE: Maurtia Falls, in the woods.
WHEN: June 21st
WHAT: Baphomet's concert debut!
WARNINGS: Possible drinking, drug use, fire hazards, and/or Wicked + the Divine spoilers; anything else, please mark your threads as necessary!
Although promoted across all four cities -- mostly via ominous posters and graffiti displaying a simple symbol and the date, June 21st -- directions to the concert are a little more obscure to come by, although those who want to find it will find their way. Part of it is via word-of-mouth, yes, but there's also a sort of... strange draw in the air, one that will just instinctively guide those who truly belong at the show, or are at least open to hearing it.
But however they find their way, it becomes much more obvious the closer you get. Reach a particular Maurtia Falls forest and one might start to notice that same symbol painted on some of the trees and nearby power poles, accompanied by arrows guiding attendees deeper into the woods.
The destination itself is obvious once you arrive to it: a large clearing in the woods, illuminated by a number of eerie floating red and gold lanterns and (what would appear to be) faerie lights. There is fog and, somehow, a cloak of dusk surrounding the area even before the sun really begins to set, and the ground is dark and illuminated by cuts of flame as if there were just a fire here. Visual effects courtesy of Nico Minoru's magic, no doubt. There's streaks of red paint smeared across several trees, the ground, and the props meant to look like blood, too, but it's probably not actually. One thing is for sure, which is that from a distance, from the outside looking in, it will certainly look as if there's a fire blazing within the woods the entire night.
The stage itself is made of wood and metal, elevated just a bit from the ground so it gives off the appearance as a dilapidated bridge, splintered and rusted, and is backed with black and orange curtains. Far from the stage is a merchandise table, which includes black t-shirts sporting Baphomet's insignia in white or red, as well as posters of the same design (some of which include also Baphomet's name, or flaming eyes below the symbol), various takes on the goat-skull, blades, and spikes theme via metal rings and necklaces, a Goatman plushie with burning red eyes, and then finally, shirts and encouraged donations promoting Linda Belcher's Lind-a-Care foundation. On the opposite side of the stage is a broad table with refreshments, sporting an enormous golden claw-footed punch bowl in the center which compartments a few different varieties of red-colored drinks (which Reggie Mantle will be happy to spike alcoholically, using his powers, should anyone want or ask) within itself, BAPHOMEAT (lamb kebabs), a broad spread of sandwich fixings and bread, elaborate fruit-and-cheese plates, a selection of fireball whisky, and of course, bottles of water.
Once it begins to get dark, the sun setting in earnest now... let the show begin.
( For a more individualized read on your character's reactions to Baphomet's godsong, please comment to THIS. )
The solstice sun burns low in the sky, descending quickly as dusk chases it, as stars speckle a darkening sky, when those red circles materialize. They glow into being in the field before the stage, neon yet ethereal, inviting yet taunting. And that metal stage-- there's a shimmer, like the atmosphere is melting. The stage becomes the opening to a cave, the audience situated in the "cave". You're in the cave, a lion in its lair. The outline of a neon red door appears, and you can feel the warmth from it on your face. It's like the hot high noon sun, it's like rage and war. It gets into your blood, this heat.
Baphomet steps through the door, onto the raise of stone that remained reminiscent of a performance stage. He raises both his arms above his head. He points to you, index finger out and thumb up.
One,
two,
four.
The sound pours out of his mouth and it burns. You feel it under your skin, you feel it spreading -- infectious, you know it's viral. You know it is contagion. He screams a riot, incomprehensible yet intimate, he roars for you. He sings every surrender you've regretted, he sings your fists ripping at your own chains, of your searing and bloodied triumph. His eyes are catlike slits, his fangs displayed in predatory snarl.
Your veins glow with inspired revolution. You can break free, you can escape a hell of your own making. You can become your own plague, and lay waste those who would ever again hurt you.
It's also one of Baphomet's talents, to create what he calls image golems. They are illusions, mirages, a plague set upon your heart and your mind. They aren't real, but they seem real, they'll talk to you and react and provoke. Sometimes they give to chase. You may see it lurking, its blinkless stare looking back at you through thinning foliage. You may hear the twigs snap beneath its hooves. He will beckon to you, his all-too-human hand nearly normal, with only some fingers seemingly melded together. He walks with mostly a man's body, but he wears the head of a goat. Welcome to the sideshow.
If you approach him, he will speak with a voice familiar to you. The voice of someone not here, someone back home. Someone you miss. Everyone within earshot will hear.
"It's been too long. I miss you."
Something along those lines come out of his mouth.
And then he'll flee. You can either:
A. Give chase to him, catch him, and NPC him from there.
B. Take comfort in your company, who would have also heard a love one from the goatman's tongue.
C. Give chase to him, catch him, and kill him. An image golem of his nature will not hurt you. He will but dissolve.
no subject
Reggie laughs a bit, grabbing his leather jacket off the front seat to fish some money out of the pocket. ]
How much did I still owe you...? [ He doesn't remember, and barely cares. It's not the night to get hung up on little things. ] Too bad we're not at work. You could clear your head by test-driving the new glory hole.
[ A joke, mostly, since obviously it's still only a very hypothetical glory hole... well, probably. Reggie leans against his car as well, counting money with a bit of difficulty due to the complicated mix of emotions in the air as well as his own lowkey state of intoxication; the competing highs and lows make it difficult to focus.
He looks over at Tate, still smirking mildly, then looks back down to start over with counting his money. ]
Cuz I mean, what kills stress better than blowjobs, right?
no subject
He fans through the bills a bit more slowly, glancing back up at Tate after he counts out the first hundred, then dropping his gaze elsewhere. ]
Eh. I can't get hard on coke. [ Reggie shrugs as well, passing over Tate's money to him. ] Your problem is that you probably just haven't had any good ones.
no subject
[ Reggie shrugs again, stretching his neck a bit and leaning back more against his car hood, leg bent so that his foot rests against the tire. Tate seems dense, but Reggie brushes it off; that happens sometimes. As it is, Reggie's only sort of impulsively reaching the conclusion that, yes, maybe a blowjob right now is the perfect way to get those voices from the past out of his head-- their heads.
And especially as long as they're both still tripping off the show itself and god knows whatever else they may have both ingested over the course of the night, it doesn't seem like that big of a deal. Looking at Tate, it is a weird thing to entertain, even with their inhibitions slightly compromised; Tate isn't even Reggie's type at all, but... well, if it helps them both then he doesn't see why it'd have to be like, a thing. Stuff happens at parties, at concerts, that's just normal. ]
Look. Why don't I just do you a favor?
[ Reggie walks over closer, taking a knee down in the dirt and then immediately regretting it, given that his jeans have holes in the knees. Dirt, twigs, rocks... ugh, gross. Fooling around in the woods is fucking annoying. ]
no subject
[ It's said on a bit of a laugh, like Reggie can't believe what he's hearing-- like it's impossible a guy like Tate would turn Reggie down rather than be grateful for the offer. But that hint of amusement leaves his face in an instant when Tate shoves him, and Reggie stands quickly, noting the expression on Tate's face.
Fuck. Fuck. How the fuck did he let this happen? From girls he's relatively used to rejection; some just find him disgusting, crass, and irritating rather than charming despite the obnoxious personality, and he's just as used to not really caring about the people who don't want him because by and large it's a minority he can easily bounce back from and ignore. But Reggie doesn't get rejected by dudes very often, if ever, he doesn't tend to put himself in a position to be. It's a lot more unpredictable, and normally he's a lot more careful, but... a little less so, since Archie. He'd been incredibly lucky with how that turned out, almost impossibly lucky, because he only made a move while off his head on booze and coke, while sober he never would have tried. Because sometimes you can get a sense of when it's best to let sleeping dogs lie, even if sometimes they surprise you anyway.
Standing now, Reggie has his hand over his mouth the way people sometimes do when they're shocked, or covering a gasp. That's not what he's doing, but he just had to do something with it, since just a few seconds ago he'd been about to reach for Tate's belt with it. It's one of those rare times when Reggie is honestly speechless, having no idea what to do or how to react. It's just humiliating, in a weird way. What's he supposed to do now, laugh? Say "sike?"
Reggie just slams his car door shut with almost violent force, his own expression grown sour with cold indignation. Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Idiot. Fucking-- ]
Sure. Forget it. [ It's somehow dismissive, resentful and deadpan all at once; for that tone, he just as easily could have been saying "fuck off." ] Then how about you stop touching my car and go stick to something more your speed-- do a couple lines off a freakin' tree branch or whatever the hell it is you want. Doesn't matter to me.